Ripping at the Seams
by NefarioussNess
Summary: Kenny wants to understand the entire truth about the origin of his power and his true connection to Cthulhu's cult. Douchebag attempts to make peace with his past and move on with his new life in South Park. Unfortunately for them, it's far from easy to get what they want, especially with a new threat infringing on their quiet mountain town. (Fractured But Whole AU)


Carol McCormick had different ways of remembering the days of the week: Sunday was Church day, where she'd drag baby Kevin and Stuart off his ass to go be socially acceptable for at least one hour. Her part-time job at the Olive Garden was on-and-off, but during the on-time her shifts fell on Tuesdays, Thursdays, and Fridays. She was getting better at hiding her tips, but some days Stuart managed to get his greedy hands on it and blow it all on booze.

Lately Saturday has become more rigid in her mind due to the one saving grace of her week in Hell: the strange little cult meeting down in their neighbours' basement occurred at seven o'clock and went on for three hours. That time went by in a sluggish blur, because she couldn't save no to their gracious open bar.

She wasn't as bad as her husband, but Carol always managed to down her third beer before the first hour was up. The people gathered there were always more focused on whoever was standing at the podium, reading from some ancient book that they were obsessed over.

Whatever, more beer for them.

When they'd first been invited to the meetings the leader of their weird little group said that they could drink as much as they wanted: the only rule was that their drinking had to remain in the basement. So unfortunately that meant no sneaking off with an extra six-pack at the end of the night. When her mind was clearer and not at the mercy of alcohol or the long pull of a joint, Carol knew that it was the cult's way of guaranteeing their presence for their next meeting. And boy did that work.

She never regretted it until that night.

 _"Ph'nglui mglw'nafh Cthulhu R'lyeh wgah'nagl fhtagn,"_ said the leader once everyone was seated. The other members repeated the words back to him, with Carol and Stuart half-heartedly mimicking them. They couldn't make out a damn syllable, but since it was gibberish anyway their pronunciation didn't seem to bother anyone.

As the night wore on Carol's vision blurred and hearing muffled with each crack and spray of a fresh can. She'd barely noticed that the meeting was nearing the end; her only clue was when the people around her rose from their seats to shake hands and talk to each other.

"Stuart, wake up," she slurred, punching him in the arm. Stuart jolted in his seat; his tenth half-full beer slipping out of his grasp and spilled onto the floor.

"Fucking great," he mumbled. "You made me waste it, you stupid bitch!"

"Shut the fuck up," Carol shot back. She hissed as a spike of pain shot through her swollen stomach. Goddamnit, these were worse than the kicking Kevin used to do when she'd been pregnant with him.

This little bastard was due any day now, Carol reminded herself. Boy or girl, they were doomed to be born poor, grow up poor, and end up a jobless drunk just like their deadbeat father. She had a feeling that this baby was extra cursed; it'd been abusing her insides for months with those stabbing pains. One time she'd been at work when the pain had started up, causing her to drop a stack of plates and being laid off for three months.

Maybe that's why Carol drank; it was a form of punishment for its misbehaviour.

She'd been so absorbed in her own thoughts that Carol didn't notice when the leader had walked up to her and began to talk.

"It was a pleasure to have you return to us, Mrs. McCormick," he said. He had a strange way of smiling, like he was stretching his mouth into a shape that he wasn't used to doing.

Carol stumbled as she got out of her chair. She would've fell to the floor if the leader's hand hadn't shot out to grab her. Stuart had, predictably, fallen back asleep. Useless bastard.

"It's the one night I can count on something good happening," Carol replied drowsily.

The leader's smile stretched in a tight line. "The Old One's inevitable rise will only add to that goodness." His eyes flicked down to her stomach. "Is the child developing well?"

Carol shrugged. "If it doesn't come out a retard then I wouldn't have to worry so much."

"We prefer the term 'gifted,'" the leader corrected. "Let me reassure you that the child will be the catalyst that will shape the world."

"Uh huh, sure." This baby was only gonna be another mouth to feed, and until Stuart went down to the unemployment office they were screwed. God forbid they ended up with a third one.

"The time that you've provided us with your presence has been beneficial to us all," the leader continued. "The Old One is waiting for him, Mrs. McCormick. Before anything can happen he must arrive in our world."

Fuck, Carol wished that she remembered his damn name since he kept talking to her after these meetings. The last time Stuart demanded to know why the leader was so interested in her Carol had kicked him in the balls, saying that at least someone was showing concern for her.

It was around this time that she began to hear the muffled sound of cars screeching coming from outside. Cars doors were being opened and slammed close as angry voices drew closer.

One of the robed members approached their leader and whispered rapidly into his ear. His frown deepened as he listened intently. Carol, believing that their conversation was over, turned to shake Stuart's shoulder.

"Come on, asshole," she murmured groggily. "Time to go home."

Her husband's eyes blinked open just as the door to the basement burst open and a stream of armoured cops swarmed the room.

"Freeze! Hands up where we can see them!"

Carol's yelled in protest as she was forced to her knees, her hands now behind her back as one of the cops handcuffed her. Stuart swore, saying something about his rights as an American citizen as he was knocked to the ground.

The cultists were easily subdued within a matter of minutes. The leader remained calm as the police took possession of his book. Carol heard one of the cops saying something about it being "vital evidence" and that the rest of the artifacts along the walls would be swiped immediately.

"You can't stop him," the leader said in an eerie tone. "It'll either be today or even a decade, but Cthulhu will rise from the ocean and reign for three thousands, covering this world in his darkness."

"Shut him up if he doesn't do it himself," the police chief said. Carol was lifted to her feet and shoved up the stairs alongside the other members.

"What the hell is going on?" Stuart demanded. "Hey, drinking free beer isn't a crime!"

"Goddammit Stuart, shut the fuck up!" Carol shouted.

They were greeted by the cold March night once they stepped outside. More cops were outside, blocking the perimeter with yellow crime tape and staving off curious neighbours. A few nosy reporters had already arrived, taking photos and shouting questions at both the police and cultists.

A jolt of pain spread through her pregnant belly. Carol grunted in pain, her knees buckling.

"Come on, ma'am, keep moving," said the cop manhandling her. "Don't make this more awkward than it is."

Another shot of pain, and then a tingling numbness. Carol's stared down at her stomach. Okay, that had never happened before.

That's when an uncomfortable wetness spread across the crotch of her pants.

Oh, shit. Not now.

"My water broke," she said.

The cop stared at her in confusion. "Excuse me?"

Fuck, this night was getting worse by the second. "I said, my fucking water just broke, you damn pig!"

"She needs a hospital, you idiot!" Stuart shouted. Well, about time he stuck up for her.

And oh God, here comes the contractions.

"HOSPITAL, NOW!" Carol screamed.

For the first time since she'd met him, the leader's stoic face cracked. He stared at her in alarm, all of the blood draining from his face.

"No, don't—" he began but by then a set of ambulance sirens were wailing in the distance. Looked like one of those cops had taken Carol's cries seriously.

* * *

"Dammit, we were supposed to book them all," grumbled one of the cops as the paramedics helped Carol into the ambulance. She was breathing hard now, the pain spreading entirely through her uterus.

Stuart managed to break away from the group, his hands still handcuffed behind him, making his way over to Carol.

"That's my husband!" she protested when a cop tried pulling him back. "I need him, goddammit!"

That wasn't really true, but if they both could get out of staying in jail tonight then they wouldn't be totally screwed. Kevin was still at home in his crib and they didn't need more charges pressed against them for child abandonment.

One of the nearby cops shuffled from foot to foot. "Can't she just, you know, hold the baby in until we book them?"

One of the paramedics shot him a blank look. "Sir, this lady's cooch is about explode with blood, placenta, and hopefully not a crack baby. She just can't hold it in."

"No, I'm pretty sure she can," the cop argued. "This one politician said that a woman can hold in a baby and stop it from being born just by crossing her legs real tight."

"...Sir, just let me do my job."

By now the pain was blinding white and Carol screamed impatiently. This was Stuart's signal to jump in, sit next to her and let her squeeze the everloving crap out of his hand. The ambulance's doors slammed closed, but not before Carol saw the crowd of cult members staring at her in sheer panic.

What the hell were they afraid of? She was the one that had to pop out the little fucker.

* * *

Nearly ten years later, Kenny McCormick woke up in his bed, his body cushioned in his ratty old parka. His entire body ached from being recently blown to bits by a stray rocket launcher and yet again he'd been dragged out of Hell after his corpse had magically stitched itself back together.

He laid there for a few more minutes, listening to the muffled yelling coming from the living room. Mom was chewing his dad out for something, probably for wasting all of her money on booze again. Kenny was willing to let them air out their shit and ignore it until he heard crying through his thin walls.

Kenny dragged himself out of bed, wincing slightly as his sore body protested. _Come on,_ he said to himself, _this isn't the first time this has happened._

He opened his door and quietly knocked on the one to his right. The crying ceased and the door slowly opened. Karen's eyes were downcast, her doll pressed to her cheek.

"M-Morning, Kenny," she mumbled.

Kenny held out his hand and his sister took it. He gave hers a reassuring squeeze before leading her down the hallway.

Karen knew the routine; she followed her big brother as Kenny snuck them into the kitchen and out the back door. Something smashed into the wall and another round of screaming continued from the living room. Kenny glanced at Karen and saw a fresh wave of tears running down her face.

God, he hated his parents. He wished he could scare them into pulling their shit together. His dad's been unemployed for as long as Kenny could remember. His mom wasn't much better, but she tried to get income into their house.

He'd been able to make some meager improvements over the past few months, but it did fuck-all in saving their godforsaken family.

"Where are we going, Kenny?" Karen asked.

He gave her a smile that stayed hidden underneath his hood. "Just to the park, Karen. It'll be good for us to get out of the house for a bit."

Karen sniffed and nodded. She gave Kenny a small smile and clutched her doll more tightly. "Okay."

The only good thing about his curse was that it allowed him to return every time he died. No, it wasn't the regeneration that he liked—it was fucking annoying when he was killed and not even his goddamn friends could remember it—but rather what it brought him back to. If Kenny stayed dead permanently, then Karen would be left defenceless.

He couldn't trust his stupid parents to care for her; he could only trust himself to make sure that she was happy and getting fed properly. And Karen needed hope; that was something that only her alter ego could provide.

There was also the matter of trying to figure out exactly how he continued to die and be reborn each time. There was a missing piece of the puzzle that Kenny still haven't found; his only clue was the cult of Cthulhu. They knew more than they'd let on, and he was determined to wring the truth out of their throats. Unfortunately for him, they'd disappeared during the Old One's defeat.

Fucking Mint Berry Crunch. Jesus, what the hell was that all about?

But right now he would put that aside and focus on his sister. As long as Kenny was alive, he was determined to keep her safe. He knew what he was willing to do to anyone who dared to try to harm her...


End file.
